MAKING UP FOR LOST TIME…

Pierce Kincaid couldn’t understand why his wife nearly fainted when he came home from the store—or why she is no longer pregnant…until a five-year-old boy asks Mommy who the stranger is. Terror-filled nightmares slowly reveal that the ex-secret agent had been kidnapped, his memory wiped clean.

Pierce knows that Jessica still loves him. But if he wants a second chance at the life he lost, he’ll need to discover the truth behind his abduction and take down the kidnappers targeting his family—before death truly does part them.

Previously published.

Fade to Black

Amanda Stevens

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Prologue

“And if it’s a boy, I think we should name him Max.”

“You know I hate that name,” Jessica Kincaid complained as she pressed down a loose corner of the circus-motif wallpaper in the newly redecorated nursery. “Besides, what makes you so sure it’s a boy?”

“Well, Maxine then,” Pierce teased her, stretching to paste the last of the glittering stars to the ceiling. Suddenly the ladder he stood on teetered, and Pierce grabbed for a handhold. His arms flailed wide as the ladder toppled and crashed to the floor. Jessica cried out in alarm, but as usual Pierce landed on his feet.

Jessica’s hand went to her heart. “Are you all right?”

“Right as rain, sweetheart.” Pierce bent to drop a light kiss on the top of her head. “Don’t you know by now I have nine lives?”

“By my count, you’re getting dangerously close to the last one,” Jessica remarked dryly, referring to her husband’s penchant for adventure and excitement. Whether it was snow skiing or parasailing, driving a car or riding a motorcycle, nothing ever seemed quite fast enough for Pierce Kincaid. He seemed to relish living on the edge, and he often left Jessica breathless in more ways than one.

Why he had ever been attracted to someone as shy and hopelessly introverted as she, Jessica still couldn’t understand, but their marriage had already survived two wonderful years. Not only survived, but flourished. And now with the baby on the way, everything in her life seemed like a dream come true. A dream she prayed would never end.

She reached up and caressed Pierce’s cheek with her fingertips. “I wouldn’t be able to bear it if anything ever happened to you. You’re my whole life, Pierce. I love you so much.”

He touched the teardrop on her cheek in wonder. “What’s this?” he asked gently. “Why the tears?”

“Hormones,” she whispered, but it was more than that. Sometimes when Jessica looked at Pierce, she still couldn’t believe how happy they were. Sometimes in the dead of night, with Pierce sleeping peacefully beside her, she would wake up, certain that something would happen to take it all away from her. Just like it had when she was a little girl.

Sensing her need, Pierce took her in his arms. “I’ll always be here, Jesse. For you and the baby. We’re a real family now. Nothing can change that.”

He kissed her again, then turned and, in typical fashion, quickly changed the mood and the subject. But he kept one arm protectively around her shoulders. “I think a celebration is definitely in order here. We’ve finally remodeled one room in this monstrosity we optimistically call a house, business is picking up at the shop, and Max here will be making his debut in another couple of months. So what do you say, my love? Dinner and dancing tonight? A movie? Or shall we turn in early and celebrate in bed? And I might add that I’m particularly fond of the third choice.” His dark eyes teased her as his head lowered to kiss her again, but the phone in the hallway rang, interrupting them. He nuzzled her neck. “Hold that thought,” he murmured, then turned and left the room.

Moments later when he came back, his smile was missing. The glint in his eyes had disappeared. It wasn’t the first time Jessica had noticed his troubled look, but he would never let on to her that anything was wrong. In spite of what he’d said earlier, she couldn’t help wondering if he might be having problems with the business.

“Pierce, is something wrong?” she asked anxiously, touching his arm.

His expression instantly altered as he smiled down at her. “Everything’s fine. Now, where were we?” He reached for her, pulling her into his arms and holding her close, as if he could somehow protect her from the outside world. Or, from whatever might be troubling him. “Have you decided what you’re in the mood for tonight?”

“Actually…” Jessica trailed off, trying to shake the dark premonition stealing over her. Her own expression turned coy as she skimmed one finger down the front of his shirt. “I have this irresistible urge for…”

Pierce’s voice deepened. “For what? For once, tell me exactly what you want, Jesse.”

“I want…some ice cream,” she admitted. “I’m dying for butter pecan ice cream.”

He groaned. “That’s all?”

“Well…for starters.”

“In that case, I’d better get to the store.” He paused at the door and looked back, lifting his brows suggestively. “Need anything else? Whipped cream? Jell-O?”

“I’m seven months pregnant, Pierce,” Jessica reminded him, but the look he gave her had her heart racing just the same.

“And sexier than ever,” he added with a wink. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

By Jessica’s calculations, it should have taken Pierce no more than ten minutes to walk to the store, no more than ten minutes inside, no more than ten minutes to get back home.

When he’d been gone an hour, she started to worry.

When he’d been gone two hours, she drove to the store and looked for him, but no one remembered seeing him.

When he’d been gone three hours, she called her brother, Jay Greene, who was a naval officer at the Pentagon in nearby Washington, D.C.

When Pierce had been gone four hours, she called the area hospitals while Jay searched the streets.

At midnight, when he’d been gone ten hours, Jessica sat in the darkened nursery, hugging a teddy bear to her chest as she rocked back and forth, her dry eyes burning with grief. A star had fallen from the ceiling and lay shimmering on the floor near her feet.

It seemed like an omen to Jessica, that fallen star. Like a symbol of all her lost dreams, her hopeless prayers, her unshed tears.

Because Pierce Kincaid, her beloved husband, had vanished in broad daylight without a trace.

Chapter One

Five years later…

Where in the world was he?

Jessica glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time as she gave the chocolate batter the requisite fifty stirs. Sundays were the only full days she had to spend with her son, and she’d promised him this morning they’d make brownies together. She’d been out of eggs, though, so she’d sent Max next door to borrow one from her best friend, Sharon McReynolds.

“That was your first mistake,” she muttered. Sharon’s daughter, Allie, had just acquired a new kitten, a white fluff ball named Snowflake, that attracted five-year-old Max like metal to a magnet.

Jessica grimaced, envisioning the conversation that would ensue with her son as soon as he returned. “Allie’s not even as old as I am, Mom, and she has a pet. Why can’t I have one?”

Jessica knew the routine by heart because they’d been through it every afternoon for the past four days, ever since Sharon had taken Allie to the animal shelter to pick out a kitten. Explaining to Max that Allie’s mom didn’t work outside the home and, therefore, had more time than Jessica did to help take care of a pet did no good.

She knew Max already felt cheated because he had to go to the baby-sitter’s after morning kindergarten while Allie got to go home and spend the afternoon with her mom. Jessica knew Max thought it also unfair that Allie had a daddy to take her to the zoo on Saturday mornings and work on special projects with her on Sunday afternoons.

Allie had a real family, with a mother and a father. Max didn’t.

Jessica suspected her son’s penchant for superheroes was his own way of trying to make up for the lack of a male role model in his life. Superman and all the other comic-book characters that Max loved and tried to emulate were substitutes for the father he’d never had.

Sometimes Max pretended that his own father was a superhero, off fighting bad guys. That’s why he couldn’t be here with them now. In spite of the fact that Jessica had told Max his father was dead, she knew that deep down, her son had never really believed it.

Sighing deeply, Jessica wiped a stray lock of hair from her forehead with the back of her hand as she stared out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of Max’s red cape as he came through the hedge. Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she reached for the phone just as she heard the screen door on the back porch slam shut. Without turning, Jessica picked up the spoon and began stirring the brownie mix again.

“What took you so long, sweetie?” she asked over her shoulder, trying to hide her impatience. She knew full well what Max’s explanation would be.

“You’ll never believe what happened.”

The deep, masculine voice that responded shocked Jessica to the core. A chill shot up her spine. She whirled to see a tall, dark stranger emptying a bag of groceries into her freezer.

Scream! she commanded. But to Jessica’s horror, not a sound escaped her throat.

Run! she ordered, but her feet remained rooted to the floor.

The man stood with his back to her, but even in her terror, Jessica saw that he was tall and lean with dark, unkempt hair. The blue jeans he wore looked old and threadbare, and the cotton shirt was shredded at the hem, as if it had been caught on something sharp.

“It was the weirdest thing, Jesse.” He closed the freezer door and opened the refrigerator. “Have you ever arrived somewhere without knowing how you got there? I mean, I left the house, and the next thing I know I’m in front of the ice-cream freezer at Crandall’s, and I have no idea how I got there.” He chuckled softly as he shook his head. “Anyway, once I finally found the ice cream, I remembered we were out of milk, and then I saw the grapes, and one thing led to another. I forgot the whipped cream, though.”

He folded the sack and turned, smiling.

Jessica’s knees threatened to buckle. “Dear God.” Her hand flew to her mouth. It couldn’t be! It couldn’t be possible! She clutched the counter for support as she stared at the man, at the darkly handsome face that seemed so familiar and yet so strange.

The brown eyes stared back at her in confusion. “What the devil’s the matter with you? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“You are a ghost,” Jessica whispered in horror. “You must be.”

He started toward her, but she shrank away, her hands still frantically gripping the edge of the counter. “Don’t touch me,” she pleaded. Then he seemed to look at her, really look at her, for the first time, and he stopped dead in his tracks, as if he’d just been struck by lightning.

For one breathless moment, they eyed each other in utter disbelief.

“Jesse?” His voice was a hushed question. The confusion in his eyes deepened to horror as he continued to stare at her. His gaze roamed over her long black hair, scrutinized her face, studied her slender figure. Then lingered on her flat stomach. “What…what’s going on here? Your hair…your face…dear God, the baby….” His voice trailed off as he scrubbed his eyes with his hands. “I must be dreaming,” he muttered.

Jessica cowered away from the apparition before her, denied the vision that stood not four feet away. It couldn’t be him. It wasn’t possible. Not after five years. Five years!

She’d long ago resigned herself to the possibility that her husband had met some tragic death because the other alternative—that Pierce had simply tired of their life together and walked away—would have been, in many ways, harder for her to accept. She’d had so many losses in her life. So many abandonments.

But if Pierce had died all those years ago, there was absolutely no explanation for the specter that stood before her now. No earthly explanation.

Jessica had the slightly hysterical notion that if she reached out and touched him, her hand would pass right through him. A shiver crawled up her spine as the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Almost reluctantly she let her gaze move over him.

Whether ghost or man, something about him was different, she realized. He looked older and leaner and…hurt. There were lines on his face she didn’t remember, but the scars were the worst. Pierce’s face had been so handsome, so perfect. This man was a dark, frightening stranger.

That’s it! she thought suddenly. This man was a stranger. A stranger who was a dead ringer for Pierce. A new wave of fear washed over her as she stared at him. She began edging toward the door.

“Who are you?” she demanded, but her voice trembled with terror.

He looked at her incredulously. “For God’s sake, stop it. You’re scaring the hell out of me, Jesse. Is this some kind of sick joke? How can you look so different?” He paused, letting his gaze roam over her again as his eyes clouded in confusion. “My God, I hardly recognize you, but how can that be? How the hell can that be? I’ve only been gone half an hour.”

Jessica could feel the color draining from her face. “Half an hour? My husband has been missing for five years,” she whispered.

“Five years?” He gaped at her in horror. “What are you talking about?”

Jessica put trembling hands to her face. “Who are you?”

“You know who I am.”

“Please tell me your name,” she begged. “I have to hear you say it.”

Slowly he crossed the tile floor toward her. The knees of his jeans were ripped and his ragged tennis shoes were muddy. A long, jagged scar creased his right forearm, drawing Jessica’s gaze for a second longer before she lifted her eyes to his.

The brown eyes were shuttered now, completely unreadable. She didn’t know him. He was a complete stranger to her.

He said slowly, “My name is Pierce Kincaid. Now kindly tell me who the hell you are. And where is my wife?”

* * *

A stunned hush fell over the room.

It was the kind of silence that always follows some mind-boggling revelation. But why that should be, Pierce couldn’t imagine. Why his appearance in his own home should shock anyone was beyond him, but he had the oddest feeling that he’d walked into the last few minutes of a movie, and though the climax was exciting, he had no idea what the hell was going on.

The woman standing before him—face ashen, eyes wide with shock—looked like Jesse, except…different. Her hair was the color of Jesse’s, but instead of the short bob of curls with which he was so familiar, it cascaded down the woman’s back in gleaming, luscious waves. The wide silver eyes, fringed with thick black lashes, were colder and harder than his wife’s. And where Jesse’s figure was thin, almost frail-looking, this woman’s body was gently rounded with womanly curves.

Pierce felt something stir within him, and he frowned in disgust. He hadn’t so much as looked at another woman since he and Jesse were married, and yet this stranger elicited a response from him that seemed disturbingly familiar.

Who was she? A relative? That would explain the overwhelming resemblance. He’d never met any of Jesse’s family except for her brother. She rarely talked about her, but Pierce knew Jesse had a sister somewhere. Maybe the woman had simply shown up at their doorstep while he’d been out.

He tried to temper his own shock with a tentative smile. “Are you Jesse’s sister?” he asked as he took another step toward her. The woman flinched away, but the coldness in her eyes warmed for a moment with a flash of anger. Doggedly he held out his hand to her. “I’m Jessica’s husband.”

He watched the last shred of fear fade away from her eyes as a sort of horrified realization dawned in those magnetic gray depths. With an almost visible struggle for control, she pulled herself up straight. She faced him squarely, her eyes dropping to his outstretched hand, then returning to meet his gaze. “Why, you arrogant son of a bitch. What kind of fool do you think I am?”

Her hand swept upward so quickly it seemed to surprise them both. It connected with his cheek, and the stinging sensation triggered an automatic reaction from Pierce. He grabbed her, shoved her up against the edge of the counter and pinned her arms behind her back with one hand while his other hand fastened around her throat.

For one heart-pounding moment, brown eyes stared into gray.

Her face swam before his eyes, a hazy image from a dark dream. Pierce was no stranger to fear. He knew what it looked like, what it smelled like, what it felt like. He could see fear in her eyes again. Could feel her flesh tremble beneath his fingers. For one brief moment, it gave him an almost perverse sense of gratification to be the one to inflict it.

Then the mists cleared, and the face before him was once again a sweet, lovely, familiar face—a face far removed from the blackness, from the explosion of pain behind his eyes. As abruptly as he’d seized her, Pierce released her. He backed away, shocked and sickened by his own reaction.

“My God—” His hands moved to his eyes, as if he could rub away the searing pain in his head. Black it out, he mentally instructed himself. Fade to black.

The pain subsided, but his stomach still roiled in sickening waves. What the hell was the matter with him? He could easily have hurt her, and he didn’t even understand why. He was beginning to think he didn’t understand anything. The whole scene seemed so disjointed, like a nightmare fragmented into bits and pieces he couldn’t seem to fit together in any way that made sense.

“I don’t know why I did that,” he mumbled.

She didn’t say a word, just stood there looking at him like an animal trapped in a corner. He wished she’d say something, do something to help him understand, to help him put the puzzle together. “Can you…just tell me your name?” he asked with a desperate edge to his voice.

Her fingers were at her throat, massaging the vicious red mark left by his hand. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, “I think you already know,” she said, as the quiver in her voice shook Pierce anew. He felt his muscles tighten with awareness, with anticipation, as if preparing for a situation fraught with danger.

Their gazes clung for one electric moment, and then she whispered into the silence, “I’m Jesse.”

* * *

Jessica thought for a moment he would collapse. He staggered backward, supporting himself against the counter much as she’d done earlier. Her own knees were shaking so badly she could hardly stand. The sound of her heartbeat seemed to echo through the silence.

Pierce had come back. Somehow, some way, her husband had found his way back to her. But why had he left? Where had he been? And, dear God, why was he here now after all this time? The questions exploded in her head, mirroring the confusion and shock in Pierce’s brown eyes.

She closed her eyes, trying to shut him out, but the man standing before her drew her gaze against her will. He looked at once so dear and familiar, and yet so strange and frightening. His once handsome face was haggard and deeply lined. His body, once powerful and athletic, had thinned to gauntness. A narrow white scar sliced the left side of his face, marring what had once been a perfect jawline.

She reached a trembling hand up to touch it. “What happened to you?” she whispered. “Where in God’s name have you been?”

He recoiled from her touch, and Jessica instantly drew her hand back, nursing it against her heart as if to hide the bitterness of his rejection. His brown eyes were bleak, distant now. The eyes of a stranger.

“I don’t know,” he said numbly.

“You don’t know what happened to you?” She knew her voice sounded disbelieving, but Jessica couldn’t help it. The whole situation was unbelievable. Incredible, but terrifyingly real. “You don’t know where you’ve been for five years? Were you in an accident? Is that how you got those scars?”

Pierce put an unsteady hand to his temple. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said.

“Are you saying…you don’t remember anything?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I remember leaving here to go get ice cream. The next thing I know, I’m standing in front of the freezer in the store. I get the ice cream, I walk back here, and in the space of half an hour, everything has changed. It’s like…a nightmare. Am I going crazy, Jesse?”

At that moment, Jessica wasn’t completely sure of her own sanity. Her heart was beating against her chest so quickly and so hard that for a second she thought she might actually pass out. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “You walked out that door five years ago,” she said shakily, “and until you walked back in a few minutes ago, I hadn’t seen or heard from you in all that time. I thought you were dead.”

If he noticed the faint note of betrayal in her voice, he chose to ignore it, concentrating instead on her words. “Five years? That’s impossible!”

“Look at me,” she said desperately. “You said yourself I look different. I am different. I’m five years older.”

His proprietary gaze raked over her, stirring something in Jessica she thought had long since died. She struggled to keep her expression calm, composed, but her mind reeled in confusion. The dark gaze probed her face, making her only too aware of the changes five years had wrought in her appearance.

“If what you say is true, then that must mean—” he trailed off as his gaze dropped to her flat stomach once again “—that must mean…you’ve had the baby.”

In the last few minutes, Jessica’s emotions had run the gamut—terror, shock, disbelief, anger and maybe even a glimmer of joy. But the emotion she felt now overwhelmed all the others. The fierce protectiveness for her child settled around her like an impenetrable shield.

Max was hers. She’d given birth to him all alone. She’d raised him single-handedly. She’d made the sacrifices, she’d worked the endless hours to provide for a child she loved more than life itself. No one would take that away from her. Max was the one thing in her life she had ever been able to count on.

She opened her mouth—to say what, she was never quite sure—but suddenly the back door slammed, and both of them jumped. In unison, Jessica and Pierce whirled toward the kitchen doorway where five-year-old Max, clad in jeans, a T-shirt and a shiny red Superman cape, stood staring up at them.

The dark hair, the huge brown eyes, the stubborn set of his jaw and chin—all were identical to the stranger who stared back at him.

The very air quivered with emotion. Max’s solemn little eyes took the stranger’s measure and seemed to find him lacking. His gaze shifted to Jessica then back to Pierce. He squinted his eyes. “Who are you, mister?” he demanded suspiciously.

Jessica’s own gaze was locked on Pierce’s white face. She could see a muscle throb in his cheek, saw emotion after emotion sweep across his features. There was no mistaking Max’s identity. He looked exactly like his father. Pierce took a tentative step toward him.

The slight movement roused Jessica. She made an involuntary sound of protest which drew both pairs of male eyes. She knelt and opened her arms, and Max flew across the room to her. She hugged him tightly against her as both of them stared up at Pierce.

“My God,” he said woodenly as he gazed at mother and son across the room, “I don’t even know if I’m dead or alive.”

He didn’t wait for a response but turned and walked through the swinging door of the kitchen. Jessica wanted to go after him but found that her heart was suddenly pulling her in two different directions as Max’s little arms caught around her neck and held on for dear life.

“That man’s scary, Mom,” he whispered, clinging to her. “Is he going to hurt us?”

“No, darling, he won’t hurt us,” Jessica soothed, hugging him. But even as she gave voice to her denial, she could feel the tender flesh of her neck where Pierce’s hand—a real, flesh-and-blood hand—had pressed.

A warning pounded in her brain. He’s a stranger, she thought. The man somewhere in her house was not the Pierce she had known and loved. Wherever he had been, whatever he’d gone through in the past five years had changed him. She only had to look into those haunted eyes to know that.

Maybe she’d never known him, she thought with a jolt. She’d shared her life with him, shared his bed, but had she ever really known him?

She thought now, as she’d done for those five years, of all the times he’d been away during their marriage. So many of the trips had been unexpected it seemed now in retrospect. Sometimes when he’d been gone, she hadn’t heard from him for days at a time, but the answer to that had seemed very plausible. Many of the remote areas he traveled to in Europe and Asia, looking for treasures for The Lost Attic, his antique shop, didn’t have easily accessible telephones. In fact, Jessica had been to some of those off-the-beaten-track places with him.

Back then, it had never occurred to her to question Pierce’s absences, the lack of phone calls. She’d simply accepted it. But maybe she should have questioned Pierce. Maybe she wouldn’t have gone through the hell she’d gone through the past five years if she’d taken the time to know Pierce Kincaid a little better.

She’d believed what she’d wanted to believe, she realized now, because she’d wanted a home and family so badly. Someone to love her.

Jessica untangled Max’s arms from her neck and stood. “Come on, honey. Let’s go back over to Sharon’s house. You’d like to play with Allie and Snowflake for a little while longer, wouldn’t you?”

Max stared up at her with rounded brown eyes. “Are you coming back here?”

“Yes.”

“To talk to him?”

“Yes.”

Max clung to her hand. “I want to stay with you, Mom. I don’t think I like him. I don’t want him to hurt you.”

She bent and smoothed the dark hair from his forehead. “You don’t have to worry about me, Max. I’ll be fine. Now, come on. I’ll walk you over.”

As she and Max stepped outside, Jessica thought how normal everything looked, how perfectly ordinary a spring morning it was. The blue morning glory blossoms that climbed the trellis walls of the summerhouse were opened wide to the early sun. A mild breeze rippled through the trees, stirring the scent of roses and mimosa, and somewhere down the street a lawn mower droned.

Everything was the same, and yet nothing was. Five years ago, when Pierce disappeared, Jessica had thought her life was over. For the first few months, all she’d hoped and prayed for was that he would one day come back to her. As long as no trace of him was found, she couldn’t let go of the hope that he was still alive.

But the first time she’d held her tiny son in her arms, the realization had finally hit her. Pierce wasn’t coming back. She’d counted on him for everything, depended on him to take care of her, but he was gone. Suddenly she had no one to rely on but herself.

Max had given her life new purpose. Not only had she been both mother and father to her son, but she’d taken over Pierce’s antique business, learned everything about it there was to learn, and it had continued to grow into a thriving concern.

She’d accomplished a lot in the past five years, but those accomplishments had demanded restitution. She’d changed, so much so that sometimes when she stared at her reflection in the mirror, she hardly recognized herself. There wasn’t a trace of the old, dependent Jesse. She didn’t need anyone anymore. Certainly not a man who had walked out on her five years ago. For whatever reason.

Her hand tightened on Max’s. She felt his fingers squeeze hers back in response, and Jessica’s heart melted with love. She would do anything, anything to protect her little boy.

Together they slipped through the opening in the thick hedge that divided the two properties. Sharon sat on the back porch steps, watching Allie and Snowflake romp in the shady grass beneath an elm tree.

“I knew you couldn’t keep Max away,” Sharon called gaily. “Might as well come have a cup of coffee while the two of them torment poor Snowflake up a tree.”

“Max, come watch!” Allie squealed as she enticed the kitten with a ball of twine. Her squeaky laughter peeled across the yard, an irresistible invitation, but still Max hung back, hugging his mother’s leg.

“Go play, Max,” Jessica urged.

He looked up at her. “I want to stay with you,” he insisted.

Sharon reached over and ruffled his hair. “What’s the matter, Superman? How come so shy all of a sudden?”

“There’s a strange man at our house,” Max announced solemnly, as if that explained everything.

Sharon’s cornflower eyes widened as she lifted her gaze to Jessica’s. One brow lifted. “How interesting.”

Jessica could see the curiosity in her friend’s eyes, but didn’t bother to explain. How could she, when she didn’t understand it herself? “Can Max stay over here for a little while, Sharon? It’s really important.”

“Well, of course. You know he’s always welcome.” She turned to Max and grinned. “Allie’s been trying to teach Snowflake a new trick. I think she could use a few pointers from Superman.”

That did it. Sharon knew exactly how to appeal to Max’s male pride. He took off toward Allie and the kitten, his red cape billowing in the wind.

Sharon returned her curious gaze to Jessica. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Jessica sighed. “I’m not even sure I know. I just need some time to deal with…a problem.”

Sharon shrugged. “You know where to find me if you need me,” she said, and Jessica knew her friend wouldn’t pry any further. Sharon had learned a long time ago that Jessica wouldn’t talk about anything until she was ready.

Jessica turned back toward her house, stopping for a moment to take one last look at her son. Sharon had joined the kids, and all three of them were shrieking with laughter as the kitten rolled and tumbled and became hopelessly entangled with string.

As Jessica stood watching them, she had to fight the overwhelming urge to join them, to try to return her world to the nice, sane place it had been that morning when she’d gotten out of bed. But there in her friend’s backyard, with the sound of children’s laughter filling the air and the scent of spring flowers drifting on the breeze, the realization hit her full force.

Her world would never be the same again.

* * *

“Pierce?” Jessica called tentatively, feeling the strangeness of the name on her tongue. She felt a ripple of anxiety in the pit of her stomach, as if saying his name provided irrefutable proof that the stranger in her house was indeed her dead husband.

Jessica shoved open the swinging door to the dining room and stepped through, then went on into the living room. The room had been completely renovated nearly three years ago. The dark paneling Jessica had always hated had been replaced by Sheetrock painted a cool robin’s-egg blue and decorated with Allenburg watercolors she’d acquired through the shop.

Light from the French doors gleamed on the hardwood floors and highlighted the thick Aubusson rug she’d splurged on just last month. A grouping of chintz-covered sofas and oversize chairs flanked the brick fireplace, and the carved oak mantel held dozens of photos of Max, all lovingly displayed in antique pewter frames.

The pictures looked rearranged, Jessica thought, as if someone had picked them up one by one and hadn’t bothered returning them to their original positions. Her eyes moved to the curved staircase, upward to the sunny landing and beyond. Her bedroom was at the top of the stairs, a huge suite which took up most of the second floor except for Max’s bedroom. The third floor contained only a converted attic, which Jessica was in the process of turning into a game room.

The hair at the back of her neck prickled with unease. Somewhere in this house a stranger roamed, looking at her things, touching them, laying claim to them.

When Pierce had left, the only room that had been remodeled in the fifty-plus-year-old Georgian-style house had been the nursery. That same room had long since been transformed to accommodate a growing boy’s tastes and interests. Was Pierce in there now?

The thought unsettled Jessica more than she cared to admit. Her eyes lit on the phone, and suddenly she wondered if she should call the police, her brother, someone to help her deal with this situation.

She closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall. No one could help her. No one could even comprehend what she was feeling at this moment. Even she didn’t understand. Because in spite of her fear, in spite of her questions and her doubts, one small part of her heart still rejoiced.

Pierce was alive!

The miracle she’d prayed for for so long had finally happened. She should be down on her knees giving thanks, except for one small detail. Jessica had given up believing in miracles a long time ago. Resolutely she opened her eyes and started toward the stairs, halting when she noticed the powder-room door off the foyer stood open.

“Pierce?” There was no answer, but still she crossed the hardwood floor and entered the small washroom, assuring herself that everything was intact. And then her eyes fastened on the mirror, saw her reflection, and she knew. Pierce wasn’t in there, but he had been. He’d gazed into that same mirror, saw his reflection, and he’d learned the awful truth about himself.

Jessica backed out of the bathroom, frantic now to find him.

“Pierce!” She called his name as she stood in the hallway. Colored light filtered through the leaded diamond panes in the front door and spilled onto the polished planks of the floor. The wavering, jewellike shadows drew Jessica’s gaze downward, then toward the source. The front door was closed, but the dead bolt had been drawn back, and now it was Jessica who had to face the truth.

Pierce Kincaid had walked out on her one more time.

Chapter Two

A little while later, Jessica sat on the window seat in the dining room and watched the street for her brother’s car. How long had it been since she’d cried? she wondered. Not since Max had been born. Not since she’d decided that never again would she depend on anyone but herself. Not since she’d vowed that she would never love again because everyone she’d ever loved had left her.

Except Max.

She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, hugging them close. It was an instinctive response to her pain and confusion. For the first few days in every foster home she’d ever been assigned to, Jessica had similarly retreated into herself, had hugged herself tightly as though recalling the feel of her mother’s arms around her. Finally, though, after so many homes she’d lost count, she could no longer remember her mother’s face, much less the warmth of her arms.

The orphanage had been better because at least there she’d had Jay. The two of them had clung to each other those first few months after their older sister, Janet, had left them there. Their mother had died, their father had disappeared, and eighteen-year-old Janet hadn’t wanted to be saddled with two kids, so one cold December morning, she’d dropped Jessica and Jay at the state-run orphanage in Richmond.

After a year, twelve-year-old Jay had gotten lucky. He’d been adopted by an aging couple in Washington, D.C., who had always wanted a son and realized they were too old to begin raising an infant.

Jessica hadn’t been so fortunate. She’d been plain and skinny with unruly hair and eyes far too big and too sad for her ten-year-old face. She’d been shy and sickly and had never developed much of a personality. No one had wanted such an unattractive child.

After Jay left, Jessica had been sent to one foster home after another. She’d bonded fairly well with the first couple, but when the man’s job had forced them to move out of state, Jessica had been emotionally ripped apart again. After that, she kept herself aloof, sustaining herself on sparse letters from her brother and on the even sparser memories of her mother.

And then, years later, she’d met Pierce. It was the summer she’d graduated business school and moved to Edgewood, a suburb of D.C., to be close to Jay. Jessica had always sworn it was fate that caused her to answer the ad Jay showed her in a neighborhood newspaper about a bookkeeping position at an antique store not far from her new address. Fate, and perhaps a touch of desperation. She didn’t expect the job to pay much, but she’d been making the rounds at employment agencies for weeks with no luck.

Pierce Kincaid, the proprietor of The Lost Attic, had taken one look at her frail body, her faded blue dress, her scuffed shoes, and hired her on the spot.

Pity, she’d accused him later.

Love at first sight, he’d countered.

Jessica still remembered the exact moment when she first laid eyes on him. His assistant was about to turn her away when Pierce walked out of his office and changed her life with one heart-stealing smile.

“I’m Pierce Kincaid,” he said, dismissing the assistant with a curt nod of his head. “Welcome to The Lost Attic. What can I do for you?”

Jessica’s first thought was that he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. He had longish dark hair that curled at the nape, and dark, penetrating eyes fringed with thick lashes. He was casually dressed in jeans, a white T-shirt and a gray sport coat, and as he leaned against the counter, he gave her another smile, one that managed to look both mysterious and openly inviting.

“I—I’ve come about the job,” Jessica stammered, her poise completely shattered by his attention.

“Wonderful. How soon would you be able to start?”

His enthusiasm caught her off guard. “Now. Immediately.”

“As in today?”

“Today? But I—”

“You said immediately,” he reminded her, a subtle gleam in his eyes. “I’m rarely here, you see, and I need someone I can depend on to handle things while I’m away. My previous bookkeeper up and quit without notice. Financial statements are due, tax payments are late, the bank is screaming about overdrafts, and I’m due in Copenhagen tomorrow morning. Frankly, I’m desperate. So can you start today, Ms….?”

“Greene. Jessica Greene. And yes I can,” she added quickly, before he could change his mind.

He grinned. “Great. Let me show you your office then.”

“But don’t you even want to see my résumé?” She’d worked so hard on it, had even splurged on a rental typewriter.

He shook his head. “I know a good thing when I see it.”

Nonplussed, Jessica gazed around the shop, admiring the treasures. “You have a wonderful store,” she murmured.

“Do you know anything about antiques?”

“No. But I know a lot about bookkeeping.”

He smiled, and Jessica felt a tingle all the way to her toes. “That’s fine. I tell you what, Jessica. You teach me enough bookkeeping so that I know my way around a ledger, and I’ll teach you everything I know about antiques. And then some. How does that sound?”

It sounded wonderful. Too good to be true, in fact. Within days, Jessica had settled into the routine of her new job. When she’d been working for Pierce for three months, true to his word, he began teaching her about antiques.

“This is a Lowell,” he’d say as he showed her an exquisite glass sculpture. “See the marking on the bottom? Lowells aren’t as famous as Steubens, of course, but the designs are original and highly detailed. Andrew Lowell died so young, there aren’t many of his pieces around and most of the ones that are documented are in private collections. But I found this in a little shop on the outskirts of Paris. The owner didn’t realize what he had.”

Jessica was like a sponge. She drank in every word Pierce uttered, exclaimed over the beauty of each and every piece he brought back from his treasure hunts. She loved being surrounded by beautiful things with fascinating histories, possibly because her own past was so dismal. She adored having Pierce spend hours talking to her, devoting his time solely to her. She’d never had so much attention before.

When she’d been working for him for six months, he gave her a raise and added responsibilities. He began leaving her in charge when he went on his regular jaunts overseas. When he returned, he’d tell her intriguing stories about the places he’d been to and the people he’d met as they pored over his findings.

“Pop quiz today, Jessica. Tell me how we can be certain this is an authentic Allenburg watercolor?” he would ask, a teasing glint in his dark eyes as he and Jessica unwrapped the paintings.

With a magnifying glass, Jessica would locate the tiny hidden water lily which identified the artist’s work, and Pierce would smile his approval. “Excellent. Perhaps you deserve a reward,” he would say, with that mysterious, sexy smile that always sent her heart racing. And then he’d take her out to lunch at some little out-of-the-way place, which would have both excellent service and scrumptious food. And for the rest of the day, Jessica would feel special and pampered.

When she’d been with Pierce a year, he began taking her on buying trips with him occasionally. Slowly but surely, under Pierce’s expert tutelage, Jessica began to blossom, to come out of her self-imposed exile. And slowly but surely she was falling madly, passionately, desperately in love with her boss.

When she’d been with Pierce fifteen months, he asked her to marry him. They were in Paris, and at first Jessica convinced herself that the romantic ambiance of the city of light, the effusive flow of champagne at the Cochon d’or had made Pierce impulsive.

“If I were impulsive,” he explained, staring at her over the flickering candle on their discreetly located table, “I would have proposed to you the first time I laid eyes on you. Because I knew even then that you and I were meant to be, Jesse. You knew it, too, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I knew it.”

“Then say you’ll marry me,” he demanded, his eyes glowing with triumph.

“I’ll marry you,” she said, and then he lifted her hand and slipped a beautiful antique diamond and garnet ring onto her finger.

“You won’t regret it. I’ll make you so happy you’ll forget all about the past.”

“I already have,” she vowed.

Weeks later, they were married and settled into their home in a lovely neighborhood only a few miles from the shop. Edgewood, located a few miles from Langley, Virginia, and across the river from Washington, D.C., was home to a lot of government and military employees. Though not as pricey as Georgetown or Alexandria, it still boasted many of the same attractions: tree-shaded sidewalks, cobblestone streets, elegant old Federal and Georgian homes, as well as a close proximity to the nation’s capital.

Jessica loved her job at the shop, but she gladly gave it up to concentrate on remodeling and redecorating their home. She had no higher aspiration than to be the perfect wife and mother. She loved Pierce dearly, needed him desperately.

How could she have known back then that the one person she held most dear, loved more than life itself, would eventually leave her just like all the others had?

Jessica rested her forehead against her knees as she closed her eyes, trying to push away the memories. Why? she asked herself over and over.

Why had Pierce left her?

And why had he come back?

How could he not remember five years of his life? And yet that was exactly what he’d told her. What had been five years of grief and loneliness, struggle and frustration for Jessica had only been a mere thirty minutes in time to him. What could have happened to him?

He’d been hurt. She could tell that by the scars on his face and arm. It made her shudder to think what he might have gone through. There was only a shadow remaining of the man she’d known, loved, adored. But was that shadow merely a mirage? Was there anything left of the man from her past?

At that moment, Jessica wasn’t sure she could handle the truth—whatever it turned out to be.

* * *

Pierce walked the streets. By force of sheer will, his tired legs carried him farther and farther away from that house. From his home. From his wife. From his son.

The image of those huge dark eyes in that solemn little face brought stinging tears to his own eyes. He rubbed the back of his hand across them, trying to erase the vision as he wiped away the moisture. He had a son. Dear god, a five-year-old boy he didn’t even know.

And Jesse. Sweet, lovely, fragile Jesse. She seemed so cold, so hard, so suspicious. But five years had elapsed, she’d said. Five years! How could that be? How the hell could that be? Pierce asked himself desperately.

Just a moment in time for him had been five years of limbo for her. One glance in the mirror had told him she wasn’t lying—not that Jesse ever would. Not his Jesse, he thought as his fingers moved to touch the scar on his face.

But the woman back there, the cold-eyed, beautiful stranger was not his wife. He felt something of the loss and betrayal now that she must have felt so long ago when he hadn’t come back, and he despaired for them both.

A car horn blasted in his ear, and Pierce jumped back from the curb, startled to alertness. The driver shook his fist at him as the car zoomed through the intersection.

Pierce paid him scant attention. Automatically he waited for the traffic light to change, then walked aimlessly across the street. A bright red Coca-Cola sign flashed in the morning sun over a corner café, reminding him rather urgently that he was hungry. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. He couldn’t remember anything, in fact, beyond two hours ago.

That wasn’t exactly true, he realized. Ever since he’d seen Jesse’s shocked face, he’d been experiencing certain…impressions. Impressions of darkness and pain, of wandering around hopelessly lost but knowing all the while there was some place he should be, had to be. That certainty had driven him relentlessly through the mists until, almost as if he’d awakened from a long, deep sleep, he’d found himself at the grocery store and everything had clicked back into place.

For Pierce, the world had stopped for five years, then started back up again in exactly the same place. But why? And how?

He gazed at the scar on his left arm. What the hell had happened to him?

Checking his pockets, he pulled out the bills and change he’d gotten back from the twenty he’d used at the grocery store earlier. He had no idea where the money had come from. Someone must have given it to him….

Suddenly the street noises faded. His surroundings disappeared. For just a flash of time, Pierce was back on an island, standing on the beach, staring at the sky. A bird soared high overhead, silhouetted in the brilliant sunlight. It was an image that instantly brought back feelings of anger and betrayal. A nagging premonition of danger. And then a man’s voice at his shoulder. “You’ll need money. Here’s all I can spare. Go home now. Find your family and protect them.”

The vision vanished, leaving Pierce with a pounding headache in the warm morning sunshine.

Find your family and protect them.

Against what? Against whom?

For a moment, Pierce fought an almost overpowering urge to turn around, to go back home and make sure Jesse and his son were okay. But they’d managed just fine for five years without him. How could he help them now? How could he protect them from something he couldn’t even remember?

Wearily he put his hands to his temples, massaging away the pain as the memories and the feelings began to evaporate in the sunshine.

His stomach rumbled again—a demand for fuel—and Pierce knew that whatever had to be faced would best be done by getting back his strength. Besides, Jesse needed some space, and he needed time to figure out what to do.

He opened the glass door of the café and stepped inside. As disreputable as the place seemed to be, his appearance still garnered a few curious looks. He chose a table in the back and carefully studied the one-page menu. The meager selections tempted his appetite beyond reason, making him wonder again just how long it had been since he’d eaten. He chose a club sandwich, then checked his money again after the waitress had taken his order.

The bells over the door chimed, and Pierce’s head swung around, his gaze immediately scrutinizing the man who had just walked in. He was tall and thin with light brown hair and a thick mustache. He took a seat at the counter, and Pierce studied the man’s back for a full thirty seconds, not understanding his own wariness.

Did he know that man?

Caution. It was a deeply ingrained command, an almost instinctive behavior. Pierce’s gaze scoured the room, then came back to his own hands resting on the chipped Formica tabletop. They were trembling—from fatigue and hunger as well as emotion—but what caught his attention now was the raw, broken skin across his knuckles. He studied his hands as though they belonged to a stranger. They were scarred and dirty, the nails broken. Disgusted, he rose from his seat and located the men’s room nearby.

Trying to avoid his reflection in the mirror, Pierce scrubbed his hands with hot water and soap. The raw places on his knuckles stung, but he ignored the pain, automatically blacking it out. When his hands were as clean as he could get them, he filled the basin with cold water and plunged his face into it, hoping the icy shock would restore his memory.

Why was it he could remember Jesse and their life together so clearly, so vividly, and not anything about the immediate past? He could remember his childhood, his parents and the sterile, loveless home he’d grown up in. He remembered college at Georgetown and even friends he hadn’t seen or heard from in years. He could remember traveling in Europe and Asia before he’d met Jesse, and the secret he’d deliberately kept from her, the side of himself he’d never told her about.

Guilt welled inside him as he thought about the evasions and half truths he’d told her for years. She’d innocently accepted each and every one without question.

Except for the past five years, the memories were all coming back to him now, pouring through his mind so fast he felt a little dizzy.

For years, before he’d met Jesse, Pierce had been a specialized agent for a very elite agency that operated within the CIA. Very few operatives even had knowledge of the group whose specialty was deep cover. Pierce had been recruited out of college because he had a certain reputation for living on the edge and because of the antique business he’d inherited from his parents. It gave him the perfect excuse to travel around the world without arousing questions. His real identity had become a deep cover for him, the very best kind because no one ever suspected.

Not even Jesse.

He gazed at his reflection in the mirror. He’d never told her even after they’d married—not just because of the oath he’d sworn to uphold—but because he’d always thought the less she knew the safer she’d be. It had been his duty to protect her.

It still was.

The washroom door swung open, and Pierce whipped his head around, his hand reaching for a weapon he knew instinctively he hadn’t had in years. The man who’d been sitting at the bar now stepped inside the room. He gave Pierce barely a glance as he headed for a basin and began washing his hands. Quickly Pierce drained the sink, then combed his fingers through his damp hair, trying without much success to look a little more presentable.

The man was studying him in the mirror. Pierce turned and their gazes met. He searched the man’s face for some sign of recognition. Something other than the niggle of suspicion was worrying him.

“Nice day, isn’t it?” the man asked pleasantly as he dried his hands on a paper towel.

“It’ll probably rain this afternoon,” Pierce replied automatically, not exactly sure where the response had come from.

Somehow the answer seemed expected. Something flashed in the man’s blue eyes, and then he smiled slightly, his mustache tilting at one corner. “One thing’s for sure. You can never predict the weather this time of year. Be a fool to try.” Then he turned, tossed the paper towel in the trash bin and exited the washroom.

Shaken by the encounter and having no idea why, Pierce waited a few seconds, then followed the man out. The stranger was seated at the counter again and didn’t look around. But Pierce’s appetite was gone. He tossed some bills onto the table and hurried through the café door.

Outside, the sun blinded him. Pierce leaned against the building’s redbrick facade as the full realization of his plight hit him square in the face. He’d just spent the last of his money, he was still hungry, and he had absolutely nowhere to go.

Wiping a streak of sweat from his temple, he pushed himself away from the building and started walking down the street.

* * *

“Now, let me get this straight,” Jay Greene said as he sat across the kitchen table from Jessica. “You’re telling me that Pierce Kincaid—a man who disappeared five years ago—strolled through your back door this morning as if he’d only been gone half an hour?”

Jessica nodded weakly. “He even brought me the ice cream I’d sent him out to get that day, right down to the correct flavor.”

“And you have no idea where he is now?”

“I took Max next door, and when I came back, he was gone. That was this morning, Jay. He looked so tired, so…ill. I can’t help but think of him out there wandering the streets. It’ll be dark soon—” The look on Jay’s face stopped her.

“I wouldn’t get carried away with the pity just yet, Jesse. This whole memory thing seems a little too convenient for me.”

“You think he’s lying?” Her voice sounded anxious, shaky.

“Wouldn’t be the first time a husband just up and took off. Think about it.”

She had thought about it. Endlessly. “But…we were so happy,” Jessica protested. “We were both excited about the baby. The shop was doing great, we’d just bought this house—”

“And maybe he woke up one morning and decided he couldn’t handle the responsibilities anymore. It happens, and Pierce Kincaid was always a bit footloose, if you ask me. You said yourself he ran the business in a haphazard fashion, and frankly he never struck me as the family-man type.

“Now, out of the blue, he appears on your doorstep, just when you’ve gotten your own life in order. Look at this place, Jesse. It’s worth a small fortune, and so is the shop. When he tired of whatever the hell he was doing, why wouldn’t he want to come back here?”

Jessica stared absently out the window. Jay wasn’t telling her anything she hadn’t thought of herself, but it still wasn’t easy to hear. It wasn’t easy to think that Pierce might have walked out on her. That he had lied about his feelings for her.

She had been so sure. So sure their love had been real.

A breeze lifted the hem of the pale blue curtains as it carried in the evening scents—honeysuckle, clover and roses. Years ago, after long days at the shop, she and Pierce would sit on the back porch and sip wine while they watched the first stars twinkle out. Twilight had always been a special time of day for them, a time when the cares of the day melted away into the coming darkness.

Had none of that meant as much to him as it had to her?

As if echoing her thoughts, Jay covered her hand with his and asked softly, “How do you feel about him now, Jesse? What was it like seeing him again?”

She sighed. “I’m not sure. I know you’re right. I do have to be careful, but you didn’t see him. I think he must have been in some sort of accident. He has all these scars. Do you think—could he have been kidnapped five years ago? Held all this time?”

“With no ransom note?” Her brother looked skeptical. “It’s possible. Hell, anything’s possible. But victims who’re kidnapped either in a robbery or for sport usually turn up dead. Five years is a long time to hold someone captive.”

“I know,” Jessica agreed, her tone bleak. “I just keep asking myself where he could have been all this time. What could have happened to him?”

“Did he have any identification on him?”

Jessica shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask to see it. I didn’t need to.”

“You’re that sure it was him?” Jay’s icy gray eyes scrutinized her face.

“It was him. It was Pierce.”

Jay swept his hand through his brown hair, setting it on end. He shook his head. “Damn, what a mess. You know I’ll do what I can, but I couldn’t find out anything about him five years ago. It was as if he disappeared off the face of the earth. We may not have any better luck now.”

“I just want you to find him,” she whispered desperately. “Whatever he’s done, wherever he’s been—he needs help.”

“Your help?”

Jessica hesitated for a moment, biting her lip. “He’s still my husband.”

“Technically,” her brother agreed grimly. “All right, I’ll see what I can do.” He took out a pen and pad and began jotting down notes. “Give me a general physical description of how he looked, what he was wearing and all that. And how about a cup of coffee? This looks to be a long night,” he said with a sigh.

Jessica rose from the table and reached for a cup, but the barking of a neighbor’s dog stilled her movements. A shadow swept across the open window, so swiftly she thought at first she’d imagined it. Then came a scraping noise on the back porch, as if someone had bumped into a chair.

Jessica’s gaze flew to Jay’s, her heart hammering in her chest. He lifted a finger to his lips, silencing her. Slowly he reached for the light switch just as the sound of the back-door buzzer ripped through the quiet. Jessica gasped and Jay cursed softly as both their gazes fastened on the dark silhouette outside her kitchen door.

Chapter Three

At Jay’s nod, Jessica rose and went to answer the back door. Heart still pounding, she turned the knob and drew back the door. Pierce stood on the porch, his pale, gaunt features highlighted by the light from the open doorway. If possible, he looked even more weary than he had that morning.

For the longest moment, he and Jessica stared at one another. Neither of them spoke, but the tension crackled between them like a live wire in an electrical storm.

Then his hands slipped into the front pockets of his jeans and he shrugged, a gesture that was at once familiar and dear. The ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I seemed to have lost my key,” he said wryly.

They both seemed to waver with indecision. Then with a little gasping sob, Jessica took a step toward him as Pierce moved toward her. His arms went around her and held her tightly as she clung to him, her eyes squeezed shut against the intense emotions spiraling through her.

Pierce was alive!

For a moment, everything else vanished from Jessica’s mind. She just wanted to hold him, assure herself that this was no dream. He buried his face in her hair, and she could feel his arms trembling as they held her, could feel his heart beating against hers. One hand came up and brushed through her tangled curls.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered raggedly. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come back here, but…I had to. I had to see you again, to make sure you were all right….”

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice cracking with deep emotion. She could feel the leanness of his body against her, the sharply defined ridges of his ribs through the ragged shirt. Pierce had once been so virile and muscular. To see him now made Jessica’s heart ache with sorrow.

But even now, when he’d been through God knows what, she could still sense remnants of strength in his arms, a hint of the same confidence she had always admired so much. Pierce was not a man who would be taken down without a fight.

That thought struck her with cold reality. Was that why he had all the scars? Had he been fighting for his life all this time? Dear God…

As if sensing her thoughts, she felt his posture stiffen. She lifted her head and saw that he was staring over her shoulder, his dark eyes wary once more.

“Hello, Jay,” he said with a thin smile. “Aren’t you out of uniform?”

Jessica had forgotten all about her brother. Awkwardness now settled over the room like a funeral pall. She tried to pull away from Pierce, but his arms held her for a fraction longer, as if staking his claim before letting her go.

“I didn’t think this was an official visit,” Jay said. But even without his uniform, he stood military straight, his cool gaze taking Pierce’s measure without blinking.

Jessica backed away, her gaze darting from Pierce to Jay. Her brother’s expression must have been identical to the one she’d worn that morning. The mixture of suspicion, disbelief, anger and even touches of fear echoed in Jay’s gray eyes.

It seemed a million years before either of them spoke again. Jessica’s heart raced with tension as she stared up at Pierce, once again taking in the haggard features, the scar.

Pierce smiled. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Not where my responsibilities are concerned,” Jay agreed. “Shall we all sit down? Jesse, can you get us some coffee?”

The command finally motivated her. Jessica headed toward the coffeepot, relieved to have something to do. She could feel Pierce’s dark eyes on her, following her every movement. Reluctantly her own gaze lifted to meet his. Something flashed between them—a memory? A feeling? Jessica wasn’t sure. But all of a sudden, she felt a tiny shiver of warning scurry up her spine.

Pierce’s proprietary gaze moved over her, greedily, familiarly, making her body tingle with memories she’d long ago suppressed. He was looking at her the way she remembered him looking at her. The brown eyes were narrowed slightly, the long, thick lashes hooding his expression, but Jessica knew what he was thinking. She’d always known.

She said the first thing that came to her mind. “You look hungry.”

“Starving.” His eyes never left her mouth.

Her face flamed at the inadvertent—or not so inadvertent—innuendo. Nervously she wiped her moist palms on a paper towel as she moved past him toward the refrigerator.

“Actually, what I’d really like to do is get cleaned up,” Pierce said. He started toward the kitchen door, then checked himself as he looked back at her. “Is that all right?”

“Of course.”

He hesitated, his gaze unreadable. “Where?”

That jolted her. Where, indeed? She’d long since removed his belongings from her bedroom, except for a few mementos she couldn’t bring herself to part with. The idea of him once again occupying that room was distinctly uncomfortable.

The question of where he should shower brought up a whole new set of problems for Jessica. Where would he stay? Where would he sleep? What did he expect from her? They were still legally married, but five years was a long time. Even if he had no memory of their separation, the reality of those long, lonely years still breathed a life of their own inside Jessica’s heart. Surely he didn’t expect just to waltz back in and pick up where they’d left off five years ago.

But if he was really suffering from amnesia, then that’s exactly what he would expect. His feelings hadn’t changed—even if hers had.

Her gaze lifted again, and Pierce’s eyes trapped her with a look she thought seemed slightly reproachful, as if he’d read her exact thoughts. She blushed again and said almost defiantly, “Sometime ago, I moved all your things into the guest room downstairs. You’ll find fresh towels in the bathroom. Everything you need….”

Her voice trailed off at his look. Not everything, he seemed to be communicating. Then he turned and disappeared through the swinging door to the dining room.

Silence quivered in the air for a long moment, then Jay said, “Well, I’ll be damned. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

With shaking fingers, Jessica pulled the makings of a sandwich from the refrigerator and placed each item carefully on the counter. “So…what do you think?” she asked, not daring to meet her brother’s eyes. He’d already seen more than she would have wanted him to. Her reaction when she’d first seen Pierce at the door had been purely spontaneous, an overreaction to the tumultuous emotions racing through her. She hadn’t stopped to think about what she was doing, about the wrong signals she might be sending to Pierce.

Now she did stop to think, and she regretted the embrace because it had instantly created a bond between them, an intimacy that was far more than she could deal with right now. She was glad Pierce was alive. More than glad. Joyful. Thankful. They’d conceived a son together. But the years apart had been longer than the years they’d had together. There was no way they could ever go back to what they’d once had.

She hoped to God Pierce understood that.

Jay got up and carried his cup across the room to the coffeepot. He poured himself a fresh cup, took a tentative sip, and grimaced. “Damn, Jesse, I wish you’d learn to make a decent cup of coffee.”

“My mind was elsewhere, okay?” she snapped.

“Hey, don’t bite my head off. I’m an innocent bystander in all this.”

“Sorry.” She dropped down at the kitchen table and propped her chin in her hand. “What am I supposed to do?” she asked in desperation. “I don’t even know him anymore, and he doesn’t know me. I don’t know where he’s been, what he’s done, why he’s back. I’m not even the same person he left five years ago. I’ve grown up. I’ve taken charge of my life. I don’t—”

“Need him anymore?” Jay nodded. “I’m sure he’ll find that out soon enough, if he sticks around.”

“What do you mean if?” Jessica raked impatient fingers through her hair as she stared at her brother. “You think he’s going to leave me…leave again?”

Jay shrugged as he brought his coffee to the table and sat down again. “Let’s just say I’m trying to keep an open mind. Wherever he’s been, he’s had trouble. You only have to look at him to know that much. What I can’t help wondering is what kind. And if he’s bringing it back here with him.”

Jessica’s silver gaze rested on Jay’s stern countenance. “Meaning he could be on the run?”

Her brother merely shrugged as he lifted the cup to his lips. But his gray eyes were darkened with worry. “Max is next door with Sharon, right?”

His tone was a little too casual. Jessica found herself shivering with an eerie premonition as she nodded. “She called earlier and asked if he could stay the night. Under the circumstances, I thought it was a good idea.”

“So do I.”

Their gazes met again, and Jessica saw her own uneasiness mirrored in Jay’s eyes. But before either of them could speak, the kitchen door swung inward and Pierce stepped into the room.

Jessica’s gaze instantly collided with his. He looked better, she had to admit. Much better. His dark hair, still glistening with dampness, had been carefully combed and the days-old growth of beard had been scraped away, accentuating even more dramatically the white scar down his cheek, the deep creases around his eyes and mouth.

The jeans he’d put on were old and worn, a pair he used to favor for puttering around the house. But even though they were frayed at the hem and shiny at the knees, they were far better than the disreputable pair he’d discarded. They hung loosely on his gaunt frame, reminding Jessica of how snugly they had once fitted him, how sexy he’d always looked in them.

He wore a blue cotton shirt—sleeves rolled up, tail out—that triggered yet another memory for Jessica. He’d worn a blue shirt the day he’d disappeared. Had he remembered that, too, or was his selection an ironic coincidence?

He returned her appraisal, the deep brown eyes warm and seeking as they moved slowly over her face and then downward. Her own jeans fitted a little too snugly. She’d always been pencil thin, but after Max was born, she’d filled out and had never been able to drop the extra ten pounds. Actually, she’d always been happy with the added weight, but now she found herself wondering what Pierce thought.

The sudden warmth spiraling through her veins shocked her. And scared her. It had been a long time since she’d felt sexual desire. Not since Pierce had left. Sex with him had been wonderful because it was with him. But before she’d met him and after he’d left, abstinence had never been a problem for her.

Pierce had always teased her that she was like a car engine on a frosty morning. She had to be warmed up properly to get the best mileage. Jessica’s cheeks heated at the memory.

Finally breaking eye contact, she jumped up from the table and busily began assembling his sandwich. Pierce sat down at the table across from Jay, and the two men eyed each other stonily, reminding Jessica that, to her despair, they’d never been the best of friends. She placed the plate in front of Pierce, and their hands touched briefly before Jessica drew hers back.

“What would you like to drink?” she asked in a brisk tone.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a beer,” he suggested with a smile that sent a new wave of awareness washing over her.

“How would you know that?” Jay asked quietly. “I thought you lost your memory.”

Pierce’s head swiveled so that his eyes met Jessica’s. “It’s just an impression, not a memory. I think I’ve done without a lot of things.”

The bottle almost slipped from Jessica’s fingers. Hands shaking, she poured the beer into a mug and set it beside Pierce’s plate, careful this time to avoid his touch. She sat down at the table and watched him attack the sandwich.

His appetite seemed ravenous, though she could tell he tried to curb his urgency. The sandwich disappeared in seconds.

“Would you like another one?” she asked softly, her heart feeling as if it would break in two.

The idea of seconds seemed to shock him for a moment. Then he said, “If you’re sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

It took Jessica a long time to make the second sandwich. She stood at the counter, her back to the men as she tried to gather her shattered poise. But as soon as she wiped away the silent tears from her face, a new batch would take their place. Instinctively she knew she wouldn’t let him see her pity. That was the worst thing she could do to a man like Pierce.

At last, sniffing as unobtrusively as she could, Jessica placed the sandwich on the table and said hurriedly, “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I, uh, have something to do in the other room.”

She all but fled the kitchen, leaving dead silence in her wake.

After a few seconds, Pierce picked up the other sandwich and began eating. Jay reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew a pack of cigarettes and lit up, leisurely blowing a thin stream of smoke skyward.

“I thought you’d quit,” Pierce said as he eyed his brother-in-law curiously.

“I’ve quit several times since you left. If I hadn’t already started again this last time, I’m sure I would have after tonight.”

Pierce’s brows arched. “I’m glad I don’t have to take the responsibility then.”

Jay blew a trail of smoke from the corner of his mouth as he spoke. “What about your other responsibilities? You as anxious to dismiss those?”

“Meaning?”

“Jessica and Max. You left them high and dry five years ago. If it wasn’t for Jesse’s grit and determination, I’m not sure what they would have done.”

“You don’t have to remind me of my responsibilities to my wife and son. I’ll take care of them from now on.”

Jay crushed his cigarette in his saucer as he stared at Pierce. “You still don’t get it, do you? They don’t need you to take care of them. Jesse’s managed just fine without you. More than fine. The business you left behind is booming, thanks to her. This house is worth a small fortune, and Max, well, Max won’t even know you, will he?”

It was a reality Pierce had been trying to come to terms with since he’d stared into those wide, accusing eyes this morning. Max. How strange that Jessica had named him that after she’d fought him so hard about it. It gave Pierce a small thrill of happiness to know that even after he’d left, Jessica had still wanted to please him.

“Look.” Jay folded his arms on the table and leaned toward Pierce. “Let’s cut through the crap, shall we? This memory business may work with Jesse, but it won’t wash with me. I can recognize a man in trouble when I see one, and I’d say you, my friend, are definitely in trouble. You don’t have to tell me what, you don’t have to tell me how or when or who. All you have to tell me, Kincaid, is why? Why did you come back here?”

“This is my home.”

“Was your home.”

Brown eyes challenged gray. It gratified Pierce to see Jay glance away first. He’d always thought his brother-in-law a little too cocky, a little too self-possessed. Pierce could spot a phony when he saw one, but he’d never had the heart to tell Jesse just how one-sided her sibling devotion was.

“This is my home,” he said, feeling the warmth of anger stealing over him. “I don’t have to justify myself to you. I may owe Jesse an explanation, one I don’t have at the moment, but let’s get one thing straight. I don’t owe you a damned thing.”

The air buzzed with tension. Jay’s gray eyes glinted with steely anger as he half rose from his seat. The unspoken challenge lay in the air between them like a gauntlet thrown to the ground. Slowly Pierce stood up.

“What’s going on in here?”

Both male heads whipped around to find Jessica standing in the doorway, watching them with an expression that wavered between curiosity and disgust. Her assessing gaze went from one to the other as she did her own summation of the situation.

Jay spoke first. “I need to be shoving off, Jessica. But I don’t want to leave until I know everything’s all right here.”

Her expression softened as she smiled at her brother. “I’m okay. Thanks for coming over.”

Jay’s gaze returned to Pierce. “Can I drop you somewhere?” he asked bluntly.

The question struck Pierce like a physical blow. He was being asked to leave his own home. For one black moment, it was all he could do to curb the sudden rage hurtling through him. He turned to face Jessica who still hovered in the doorway. He tilted a brow in question.

Her gaze burned into Pierce’s until his heart started to pound. What was she thinking? he wondered. Did she still feel anything at all for him? It was impossible to think that for him only a moment ago they had been in love, happy, and now she might feel nothing at all for him except pity.

God help him, he could stand anything but that.

Jessica took a deep breath and released it as if she was gathering her courage for what she needed to say. Pierce’s own breath seemed suspended somewhere in his throat.

“This is your home, too, Pierce,” she said finally. “I can’t ask you to leave. Not when….” Her voice trailed off as she gazed at him, the gray of her eyes turning to mist. Pierce knew how he must look to her, and it made him cringe.

“Go on,” he said evenly.

Her gaze dropped. “Not when you obviously need a place to stay.”

“Jessica, for God’s sake, what do you think you’re doing?” Jay objected. “He can’t stay here. What about Max?”

“What about Max?” Pierce said in a deadly quiet voice that seemed to hold both brother and sister in thrall.

“My God, man, you have to know what this will do to him. He’s only five years old.”

“I’ll take care of Max,” Jessica said, and the firm note of resolve in her voice surprised Pierce. Once she would have turned to him to make such an important decision.

Five years, he thought again. Five years of his life gone in the blink of an eye. How much more was lost to him than just that time?

“I hope to hell you know what you’re doing,” Jay muttered angrily as he pushed past them both and strode out of the kitchen.

Jessica chewed her bottom lip, a nervous habit Pierce remembered so well. It heartened him to know that at least some things hadn’t changed.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, then turned and hurried after her brother. Pierce hesitated a moment, then pushed through the door, too, distracted once again by all the changes Jesse had carried out on the house. Changes they had once planned to work on together.

Had she done all this by herself? he wondered as he walked through the formal dining room. The decor was elegant, but somehow the room left him cold. It was almost too perfect, he thought, remembering the house he’d grown up in. There was no life in it. No warmth. No love. It was a room that matched the hard chill in Jessica’s eyes.

He walked through to the living room and looked around. He liked this room better. The pictures of Max in here added a homey touch that somehow soothed him.

Jessica had walked her brother to the door, and now they both stood in the foyer, their furtive whispers attesting to the nature of their conversation.

Pierce crossed the hardwood floor to the fireplace and picked up one of the pictures of Max he’d studied so intently that morning. A baseball cap angled over the boy’s forehead as his brown eyes squinted into the sun. There was a rip in his shorts and a scab on one scrawny knee.

Pierce’s heart melted. He’d loved the baby Jesse had been carrying, and now he loved this little boy with an intensity that astounded him.

Jessica stood at the end of the sofa and watched Pierce. He didn’t look up, and she realized he hadn’t heard her come in. She watched him trace a finger gently along the photo, and the look of fierce possessiveness that came over his face shocked her. Her heart skidded with warning as her own defenses rose in reaction.

Pierce glanced up, and the expression in his eyes confirmed her deepest fears. When he spoke, his voice gave rise to new ones. Jessica trembled with dread as his gaze continued to hold hers.

“Where is he, Jessica? Where’s my son?”

Chapter Four

Jessica tried to keep her voice controlled. She didn’t want to give away her fear, didn’t want to appear weak or vulnerable even to Pierce. Especially to Pierce. “Max isn’t here,” she said, glancing away.

“Where is he?”

“He’s somewhere…safe.”

“Safe? That’s a strange term to use.”

Her eyes challenged him. “Is it?”

He lifted his brow, and the scar twisted it, giving him an almost sinister appearance. “Are you implying that I’m a threat to our son? Or to you?”

Jessica hesitated, then said, “You barely resemble the man I knew back then. You’ve obviously been hurt. Maybe you’re even in some sort of trouble. God knows what might have happened to you since you left. You’ve been gone for five years, Pierce. Five years. I don’t even know who you are anymore,” she finished in a whisper.

His voice lowered. “I’m your husband.”

“Technically,” she said, borrowing Jay’s term. Jessica took a deep breath and let it out, trying to calm her pounding heart. She walked over to the window and stared out into the darkness. “Can you even begin to imagine what this is like for me? All those years you were gone and not one word, not one clue, and now suddenly here you are, acting like nothing’s happened. Acting like you think…everything should be the same between us. It’s not. It’s not the same.” She turned and faced him. “It’ll never be the same again.”

His eyes close briefly. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s the truth. I don’t want to hurt you, but the sooner we face it, the better off we’ll both be.”

“My God, Jesse.” He spread his hands in appeal. “You’re acting like you think I left because I wanted to. And given your background, I guess I can understand that. My…disappearance—whatever you want to call it—must have seemed like the ultimate betrayal to you. You must have felt as though I had deserted you, too.”

“You can’t know how I felt,” she said, crossing her arms.

“No, I guess I can’t,” he agreed. “But one thing I do know. I didn’t leave you because I wanted to.”

Her chin lifted a fraction. “Then why did you leave me?”

“I’ve already told you,” he said helplessly. “I don’t know what happened.”

“You have no idea?”

Pierce hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “I have no memory of the past five years,” he finally said.

“It’s incredible,” she whispered. “So hard to believe.”

“Yes, it is,” he agreed. “It’s even hard for me to believe. So I guess I have to ask you, Jesse, given the circumstances, where does this leave us? Where do we go from here?”

Jessica made a futile gesture with her hand. “I don’t know. I think the first thing you should do is see a doctor, but beyond that…I just don’t know….” Her words trailed off as she glanced away. She couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. Couldn’t bear to see what the past five years had done to him. To her. “You need a place to stay for the time being. I won’t ask you to leave, Pierce. I…can’t.”

“Is it just pity you feel for me, then? I know how I look to you,” he said, with a derisive smile. “As you said, I’m hardly the man I once was.”

“That’s not what I said,” she flared out. “It has nothing to do with the way you look. At least not in the way you mean. It has everything to do with where you’ve been these past five years. What you’ve been doing. Why you left me in the first place.”

Her anger deepened as she forced herself to meet his dark gaze. Her voice grew shaky with emotion as she spread her hands in supplication. “Can’t you understand? Maybe you didn’t leave because you wanted to, but that doesn’t change the fact that you did leave me. I thought you were dead. All these years, I’ve mourned you, and now I find out it was all for nothing. It was all a lie.”

“You sound disappointed, Jesse.”

His observation startled her. Made her feel just a trifle uneasy about herself. Was she disappointed? Or was she just feeling hurt and confused? Angry and betrayed and…wronged. “I feel a lot of things,” she admitted. “Not the least of which is fear.”

“I would never hurt you.”

“You already have,” she said. “You have no idea.”

“But not intentionally. Never intentionally.” Pierce took a step toward her, but stopped when she flinched away. “You have to believe that, Jesse. I don’t know what happened five years ago. I don’t know where I’ve been, what I’ve done, why I couldn’t come back to you. I wish to God I did.”

He raised his hand to massage his right temple. His eyes closed for a moment as though he were experiencing excruciating pain. “It’s something I have to figure out. I have all these bits and pieces of memories floating around inside my head, and somehow I have to fit them all together again. I know none of this makes any sense to you right now. To me, either. But the one thing I do know is that I never stopped loving you.”

“How can you possibly know that?” she demanded. “If you have no memory of the past five years, how can you be so sure there wasn’t someone else?”

He lifted his gaze to hers. “Because there could never be anyone else. At least…not for me.”

It took Jessica a few seconds to register the note of accusation in his tone. The brown of his eyes deepened almost to black. His gaze was intense, probing, his voice a little too calm. Jessica felt a chill of apprehension as he said slowly, “Perhaps that should have been my first question. I’m almost afraid to ask it, though.”

Jessica glanced away guiltily.

“With good reason, it would seem. Is there someone else?” he persisted.

She hesitated, then shook her head. “No.”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“There isn’t anyone else,” she repeated angrily. She tossed back her hair and eyed him defiantly. “But there could have been. And who would have blamed me? You were gone all that time. I didn’t know if you were dead or alive. For all I knew, you could have had another family somewhere else. You could have been in love with someone else. You could have forgotten all about me,” she said, feeling the sting of tears threaten her anger. “I had no reason to believe you’d ever come back. Why should I have waited for you?”

“Then why did you?”

Silence. Jessica’s heart pounded in her chest as his gaze held hers. His brown eyes softened, misted, looked at her the way he used to look at her, as if she was someone so very special to him. As if she was the only woman in the world for him. As if he couldn’t wait to take her in his arms and hold her. Dear God, how often she had thought about that look, how often she had prayed to see it again, just one more time.

But how could she trust it now? How could she trust her own emotions when memories of the past were so strong at that moment she could almost reach out and pluck one from the air between them?

She let her anger blaze to life again. “I didn’t wait,” she denied. “I was busy working, raising my son, providing a stable home for us both. I was busy growing up, learning how to make my own decisions and realizing that I had no one to rely on but myself. Look around you, Pierce. I did all this by myself. I didn’t wait for you. I’ve gone on with my life. Max and I are happy. We’re a family. We don’t need—” She broke off, realizing what she had almost said.

His brow arched upward, twisting slightly from the scar. “You don’t need me? That’s what you were about to say, isn’t it? You have changed, Jessica. I remember a time when you would never have tried to hurt me like that.”

Pierce’s face looked like a cold, hard mask. At that moment, he seemed more than ever like a stranger to her. A stranger who had shared her life once, who had helped create a son with her. A stranger who had walked back into her life just when she was beginning to feel good about herself again.

“Five years is a long time, Pierce,” she countered. “People change. I’ve changed. I’m not the same woman you left behind.”

“Yes,” he agreed quietly, “but I never would have imagined you could have changed that much.”

* * *

Jessica lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking how strangely quiet the house seemed without her son. She could hear the soft whir of the ceiling fan overhead, the chime of the Tompion grandfather clock down in the foyer, the rustle of leaves in the trees outside her window. If she listened closely enough, she could almost imagine she could hear the sound of Pierce’s breathing.

She turned her head and gazed at the side of the bed that had been his. She’d slept on the same side all these years, never giving it a second thought, even when Pierce’s would have been more convenient for getting up in the middle of the night with Max.

Had she unconsciously been waiting for Pierce to come back? Had she known all along, somewhere deep inside her heart, that he wasn’t dead? That he was alive…and still loving her?

Don’t, she told herself harshly. Don’t believe everything he says. How could he have loved her and left her like that? How could he have loved her and not gotten in touch with her all these years? How could he have loved her and forgotten all about her?

Maybe there was a perfectly logical reason to explain where he’d been all these years. Maybe he hadn’t left by choice, just as he claimed. Maybe he’d been in an accident and hadn’t remembered her at all until now.

Surprising how that thought gave her very little comfort. Her own husband couldn’t remember her? Couldn’t remember what they’d had together? Maybe because it hadn’t meant as much to him as it had to her, Jessica thought with a new flash of anger. Maybe because—

Oh, God, stop it! she commanded herself. What good did it do to go over and over all the possibilities in her head? Whatever had happened to Pierce didn’t change anything. Not really. Five years had gone by. Five years of her growing and maturing and taking charge of her own life. She hadn’t meant to hurt him earlier when she’d said she and Max didn’t need him anymore, but it was the truth, wasn’t it?

She’d learned everything there was to know about Pierce’s business, and it had flourished in the past few years. She’d redecorated the house to suit her own tastes, and the result was elegant and beautiful, if a little cold. She’d raised Max all by herself, with no help from anyone, and he was an adorable, well-adjusted, happy little boy.

Jessica’s life was ordered now. Completely secure. For the first time, she felt in control of her own destiny. She didn’t have to depend on anyone else for her security and happiness. She’d made a safe, stable life for herself and Max, and she wouldn’t let anyone, not even Pierce, threaten her peace of mind.

What right did he have to come back here now?

A little thread of guilt wove through her anger as Jessica punched her pillow, then turned her back on the empty side of the bed that had once been Pierce’s.

If only he didn’t look so hurt, so badly in need of someone to take care of him. She sniffed, telling herself she must be catching a cold.

If only he didn’t have those horrible scars to remind them both that the past five years hadn’t been kind to either of them. If only she didn’t have to wonder how he’d gotten them, about the pain he must have endured.

She tried to harden her heart at the rush of emotion that swept through her. She’d suffered, too, hadn’t she? She had her scars, too. She’d taken charge of her life and become her own person, but not without a price. She’d grown harder, colder, even bitter at times. She seldom laughed anymore, except with Max. It wasn’t a pretty image she drew of herself, she knew. Perhaps this change in character wasn’t one of her finer triumphs, but it was life. It was reality.

It was just the way things were now.

And Pierce, well…Pierce would learn soon enough that you can never go home again.

* * *

It was good to be home.

Now that he was back, Pierce didn’t intend to ever leave again.

He didn’t care what the hell the agency said. He’d paid his dues. Five years of his life gone, and Pierce had no idea what purpose they had served. What good he might have done.

Standing in the shadows of the backyard, he let his gaze roam over the familiar, yet changed, surroundings. The cherry trees he and Jessica had planted together had grown so tall, so thick and hardy. The flower beds were neatly tended, the grass freshly cut.

With a sharp pang of guilt, Pierce wondered if Jessica hired someone to come in regularly to do the chores that he’d once done. He’d always hated yard work, but now he found himself resenting yet another usurpation of his position here at home.

His home.

He sighed deeply. He only had to look at his reflection in the mirror to know that wherever he’d been in the past five years, it wasn’t a place he would have called home. The scars, the gauntness, the haunted look in his eyes suggested he’d been through hell.

He grimaced, remembering the first time he’d seen himself in the mirror. He certainly wouldn’t be winning any beauty contests, that was for damned sure. No wonder Max had been so afraid of him this morning.

Max.

Pierce still couldn’t believe he had a son.

He smiled into the darkness, recalling the little boy’s face, the dark hair, the brown eyes, the solemn expression. He might have been looking at his own mirror image thirty years ago, Pierce thought.

His smile disappeared, replaced by a brooding frown. He hoped the resemblance ended with the physical appearance. He’d hate to think his own son might be as unhappy and lonely as he’d been at that age.

But surely Max and Jessica had fun together. Surely Jessica spent time with their son, saw to the special needs of a little boy, made him feel wanted and loved—unlike Pierce’s own parents who hadn’t had a clue how to raise a child, he thought bitterly.

A boy should be allowed to have friends over, Pierce thought, remembering the hours he’d spent alone as a child. A boy needed to be able to get dirty and roughhouse once in a while without being reprimanded for it. Surely Jessica understood all that. But as Pierce stood there gazing into the darkened backyard, an image of the immaculate interior of their home flashed through his mind.

The house was beautiful, but so different from the way it used to be. He missed the casual mix-and-match furnishings they’d begun their married life with. Jessica had gotten rid of all the old stuff. He wondered if she’d even kept the antique pine bed they’d found together at an estate sale.

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